Waiting: A Love Story
by Narcissa's Dragon
Summary: A Valentine's Day treat for your entertainment. Warnings for blood, incest, child abuse and character death. Have fun.


The morning sun streamed into the window overlooking the courtyard in the Malfoy's bedroom suite. Astoria squinted against it as she rolled over in the grand, four poster bed. The sleeping lump beside her mumbled softly. She smiled and rose quietly, mindful not to wake him just yet. Astoria put her dressing gown on and bent down to lay a sweet kiss on ruffled hair. She'd go and have a nice quiet breakfast alone.

She made her way, through the manor to a balcony overlooking the the gardens. Everything seemed to be in full bloom. Astoria called for an elf as she sat at the table. The summer wind blew and the sun shone brightly as she gave her breakfast order and sat back. The funeral had been three days ago and Draco had spent the time following, hiding away from the world. Not that it was any big change. They hadn't slept in the same bed for months. Draco very rarely sought her out. When Narcissa took ill, he became worse, spending all his free time with her. Narcissa's illness had come quickly and there was seemingly nothing the healers could do.

The elf came back levitating a silver tray. She pulled the napkin out and placed it on her lap.

"Tell me," she said, "Where is my husband this morning?"

The elf bowed low. "He has not come from his father's study all night."

Astoria sat forward with furrowed brow and began buttering a piece of toast. After a few moments she nodded to the elf.

"That is all."

The elf bowed low and disappeared.

Astoria finished her breakfast. She'd come to the decision, that she would seek him out. Make him talk to her. She stood and tossed her napkin on the table. Today was the day.

Her bare feet padded along the cool stone floor. Lucius' study was not far off, and when she came to the large oak doors she took a deep breath before knocking.

"Draco?"

Nothing.

Astoria's hand gripped the handle, turned, and the door clicked open.

"Darling?"

She pushed it and the door swung in.

The sight that greeted her was death.

"DRACO!"

Sitting in his father's leather chair, he appeared to be simply sleeping. Head laid back, eyes closed. Though his already pale features had a grey tint. There was never any color in Lucius' study till now. Two large puddles of bright red, pooled on the floor beneath his outstretched hands. Blood looks different with sunlight streaming through a window. Almost not real. Almost.

Astoria ran in and wrapped her arms about him, sobbing. So cool to the touch. Her tears fell freely down her cheeks as her hand brushed recklessly through his fine, blonde hair.

"No! Why…?!" Her voice trailed off as she kissed tears into his neck.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her breathing began to even out, save for the leftover shudders. She realized she'd knelt in his blood, but shock had set in and she made no effort to stand. Her eyes blankly looked around the room and fell to the desk beside her. Two letters lay in front of him. One open and addressed to him, one sealed and addressed to her. With shaking hand she picked up the letter with her name and opened it.

* * *

><p>It's dark outside and my family sleeps. Midnight has come and gone and now, the small hand of the great grandfather clock begins its descent. I am sitting at my father's desk, in my father's study. His quill is in my hand as I pen these words to parchment.<p>

To my wife, Astoria, beautiful as you are, you could not save my soul. For that, my heart breaks. To my son, Scorpius. Fourteen now and a brilliant wizard. Do not think that my actions on this night are the result of anything you did. I love you with all I have.

I want to tell you a tale. I want to spin you the story of a ruthless god, a young dragon with clipped wings, and the witch that healed him.

It began the summer between my fourth and fifth year. My father's growing anxiety over the return of the Dark Lord made for a good excuse to start drinking. Please understand that my father was not a drunk yet by any stretch...he just drank. Always scotch. I'd never seen him with anything else. His 'meetings', both overt and in secret, most always ended in the diminishing of our whiskey stores.

I remember the night it happened. As cliche as it sounds, a storm raged outside. I had trouble falling asleep. I wasn't scared so much as just restless from the noise. Somewhere though, in the small hours past midnight, my door creaked open. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep.

He came in, shutting the door behind him quietly and silently made his way to stand at the edge of my bed. I knew him, if anything, by smell alone. First came the fall of crisp cedar and fir; then, the warm musky pall of bergamot enveloped me. After a few moments had gone by, he sat down on the edge of my bed. I continued pretending sleep when I felt his hand come to rest on my bare stomach. My heart thudded in my chest, and I struggled beyond measure to keep my breaths even. I felt the heat from his palm as it slid painstakingly slow, down to the edge of the elastic in my sleep pants. I didn't know what to think, and I didn't know what to do. I stayed as still and calm as best I could. Soon though, silk fingers slid under and grazed my soft cock and it began to harden. To say I wanted this was not true. I'd never thought about men, but as any healthy fourteen year old boy can attest to, the animal soon takes over.

He began softly stroking and I fought not to press my hips into his tightened fist.. It didn't take long when I suppressed a groan and spilled on his hand.

"Good boy." He whispered as he straightened my pants. I still hadn't opened my eyes and I'd far surpassed shock to move.

He stood then and turned toward the door, exiting as if he'd never even been there. My mind reeled and screamed. The boy was terrified, but the animal was sated. A million voices screamed in my head a million different things. Or so that's how it seemed. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know what to think. That night, after it was over, I turned my head to my pillow and cried.

I woke up the next morning and went to breakfast. I didn't know what to expect. He sat at the table and scanned the Prophet. He made small talk with my mother. Their talk was only ever small. It was business as usual and then he was off. My mother was none the wiser. I knew I couldn't tell her. It would surely destroy my family, and my family could not be destroyed. We were the Malfoys.

This would have been a fine outlook if it had stopped there. It didn't. He began to come in regularly after that night. As the days wore on, and tensions wore thin, he began to drink more heavily and more often. This is when my father became a drunk. His nighttime visits became a brutal game, and I became a vessel for his sadistic nature. Every night he'd heal the cuts and bruises, but he could never quite mend the soul. Every morning he would once again become my father and I thought I would go mad.

Then, when I thought I couldn't take it anymore and I began to wish death upon myself, the incident at the department of mysteries happened. He came home after I was asleep, but he raged downstairs and I woke up. I wasn't sure whether my mother had finally gone to bed, but he finally settled. The manor was quiet and he came for me. Quick cuts to the skin, quick cuts to the soul. He used his cane that night, and he loved when I cried. I had bruises and welts nearly everywhere. I remember his cane, pressed to the back of my neck as I gagged on his cock, when the door burst open. The cane lifted and I drew back and wretched on the floor. Lord Voldemort had discovered my father's mishap at the Ministry and stormed the manor, waking my mother. My father was not in bed. They came looking.

My mother shrieked and my father stuttered. I laid there, shamed, numb and broken.. The Dark Lord bound my father and took him away and I sensed my mother at my side. I think I heard her crying...or perhaps it was me. I know I felt her warmth as she lifted me as best she could into her arms as the tears silently fell hot down my face.

"Oh Draco, my sweet boy!" I heard her cry into my neck as she held me tight to her. I felt limp like a filthy dishrag. I wanted to lay in my bed, to go to sleep and never wake up. I don't know how long I lay in her arms, but she rocked me and held me as if I were a babe once again. I could feel her tears as they dripped onto my bare shoulder. I could hear her small, shuddering sobs. I lay there empty. I felt like I had nothing inside. Certainly, no beating heart to speak of.

Finally, after some of my sense of self returned, I made to get up. I didn't speak...couldn't really. I was still naked and I covered myself with my hands and looked over to where he'd ripped my clothes from me once again. My mother stood and I turned away. Turned toward my tattered sleep pants and took them in my shaking hand. I bent down and lifted my leg a bit to try to put them on. I winced and staggered a bit and she rushed toward me.

She took me then, gently, by the arm. "Come, darling. Sit." She said softly, directing me limping to the bed. "I shall heal you."

She pulled her wand and I watched, nearly entranced by its dancing movements across my flesh. Her voice, low and soft, whispered spells to mend my torn and bruised skin. Her hand came up and pressed against my chest.

"Lie back, my dragon." She spoke quietly, concentrating on her wand work.

I complied and covered myself with my hands once again. As if I had any dignity left. I closed my eyes as she continued up to my chest. I felt her warm magic seep into me. I felt the Savior's touch. I felt the Goddess. If I'd had any tears left to cry, I would have shed them over love.

When she finished, she helped me sit up. This was the first time that I had the courage to look at her. Her hand came up and caressed my cheek. I couldn't help but lean my face into her touch.

"Would you like a bath?" She asked, softly?

I nodded my head. She pushed herself up, and held out her hand. I took it and stood. She led me to my bath where she began to fill the large tub with water. The steam began to rise and fill the room, giving everything an ethereal quality. I walked to the edge and stepped over, sinking into the hot water. I hissed through my teeth at the scald on my still tender flesh.

"Easy, darling." She said, taking off her dressing gown. She was indeed a gorgeous witch. Her blue, silk nightgown left just enough skin to make a boy blush and I had to look away.

I don't know if she noticed, but I heard her clear her throat as she knelt by the porcelain edge. With my knees bent and my arms wrapped around them, I watched her hands as she dipped the sponge under the water and let it fill. I wondered what she thought of me. She pulled the sponge out and she held it over the back of my neck, letting the warm water sluice down. I wondered if I sickened her. She took the soap, lathered it into the sponge and began to clean my back. I took a chance and looked at her again. I found her looking at me and she smiled. I felt my heart jump into my throat. I swallowed and looked away, my hot tears, bubbling at the backs of my eyes.

"Draco." She said, barely above a whisper. My head lowered and I closed my eyes. I couldn't trust my voice, so I didn't answer.

"I love you." She said, simply. "I will always love you."

I could feel them then, those wretched tears. They began to sneak out behind closed eyelids. I opened my eyes and felt them burn down my face. I looked up at her and that's when I realized I already knew what she thought of me. Knew the truth of it in her eyes. I couldn't speak, voice choked in my throat, but I didn't need to. Her hand came up and brushed away the tears.

"Let's get you washed." She stated softly as she reached again for the sponge.

I leaned back against the tub and let her work, holding my arms here and turning my body there. Finally, after she was satisfied, she rinsed out the sponge and put it away. She stood and retrieved a clean towel from the linen closet. I pushed myself slowly, out of the water and took it from her.

She turned then and headed toward the door to my bedroom.

"I'll get you some bed clothes." She said as she walked out.

I began to dry off and little echos of thought started to make their way to my consciousness. Images of my father. Visions of his actions. I'd worried so much about tearing my family apart, that my silence became a foundation of strength for me. Now, that foundation crumbled beneath me. No more secrets, no more lies. I stood naked in front of truth, and my perfect mother was there to protect and clothe me once again.

She came back in and handed me a pair of pyjamas.

"Thank you." I said quietly as I took them from her. My voice sounded foreign to me, and only then did I realize they were the first words I'd really spoken. Her smile was bittersweet.

I put them on and walked past her, into my bedroom. I stopped, frozen in place. My feet refused to go further. I felt so foolish, but I couldn't make visions of horrors leave my mind. 'It's just a bed.' I thought to myself.

"You may sleep with me tonight, my love." I felt her breath on my back as her hand pushed me gently toward the open door.

I let her lead me, hand on the small of my back the whole way. I saw things but did not see things. I know no other way to describe it. I was aware, but not aware. We arrived at her chamber door and went in.

It was quiet. Just a few candles flickered around the room on random surfaces. Her altar lay below the window to catch the moon's light at night. I remember her teaching me a bit about the old magic from that very sacred space years before.

I shuffled to her bed and snuck under the cool covers. I watched her move about blowing out candles. In the darkness she hung her dressing gown up on the iron peg and crawled in beside me. She situated on her back and held out her hand. I took the cue and moved in to lay my head in the crook of her arm. I couldn't remember the last time I lay like that, and it was perfect.

"I will never let anyone hurt you ever again." She whispered into the darkness.

I closed my eyes, took a deep shuddering breath and believed her with all my heart. She stroked my hair in the dark silence of the room until sleep came to steal me away.

In the days following, she rarely left my side. I will admit I had breakdowns. I had nightmares. She held and comforted. She kept silent when that is what I needed. She always knew what I needed.

One particular morning I woke before her. I had an erection, so I quietly got out of bed and went to the loo. I closed the door and went to the sink. I reached my hand inside my pyjamas and started stroking. My hand rested on the cool porcelain and I bowed my head. My eyes closed and I exhaled. My thoughts started to wander. I felt my father's cane strike my back and I whimpered. I felt his hot breath on my neck and I stroked faster. My eyes clenched shut as tears ran down my face. I felt him fuck me raw. Heard him whisper vulgarity into my ear. I was nearing climax, and with a guttural, pained cry, I spilled onto the sink and fell to my knees sobbing.

She must have heard me, for the door opened soon after, and she started inside. I quickly straightened my pants.

"Draco!" She exclaimed.

I stood and turned, attempting to hide the mess in the sink.

"I'm fine, mother." I said, brushing my hand through my hair as I looked away..

"What were you…" She started and glanced down at my quickly shrinking erection. "...Oh."

I flushed scarlet and she turned to go, then paused.

"Why were you crying?" She asked curiously.

My eyes dropped, and I felt an angry, aching lump rise in my throat. She closed the distance and put her hand on my tensed arm.

"Draco, what is it?" She asked, concern edged in her voice.

I couldn't help but close my eyes when I spoke.

"I think of him." My words were low and quiet.

My mother paused for just a breath. "You mean, when you…" She didn't finish. Didn't need to.

I opened my eyes and a tear fell.

"I don't want to, but I do." I said, my voice quietly breaking.

She wrapped her arms around me and I shuddered.

"Oh my sweet boy." She whispered and leaned her forehead into my chest.

"How can I stop it?" I asked, nearly pleading.

She looked up at me then and opened her mouth to reply. I don't know what she was going to say for her eyes fell and she closed her mouth before any words could escape. A moment of silence prevailed, I took a deep breath, lifted her face, and kissed her. I don't know why I did it. It just felt...almost sacred. Her lips were so soft and my ears caught the barest hint of a whimper from her throat before she tensed and pulled back.

"Draco, this isn't the way." She said softly, as she lay her delicate hand on my bare chest.

"Why?" I asked simply, brows furrowed. In my mind, she was perfect. In my mind she could fix my broken pieces. In my mind, she was the answer. She looked away and closed her eyes.

"Because one sickness should not beget another." She answered, barely above a whisper.

Hurt riddled my visage. "So I am sick, then." It was a question more than a statement.

Her eyes darted to mine and those perfectly sculpted brows creased. She shook her head.

"Not you, my love." She slid her hand down my chest and then pulled it away. Gooseflesh appeared and I shivered. I looked toward the window and I squinted in the morning light.

"Then who?" I asked simply. "You?"

"Draco, I…" She started unsuccessfully. My curiosity drew my eyes from the window.

"You what?"

Her lips formed a soft line and she looked up into my eyes. Her hand slid up and just barely grazed my neck. It was so very gentle, perhaps she thought I'd disappear before her eyes. I shivered again against her touch and gave a small grin because of it. It felt like an eternity since I'd done that. Her eyes sparkled when she saw me smile and she took my hand in her's.

"Come, Dragon." She said as she began to pull back and lead me out of the bath. She stopped me at the edge of the bed, reached out and pulled at the edge of my sleep pants. "May I?" She asked softly. I cocked my head at her question, briefly wondering why she felt the need to ask. Before I could respond, she answered the question in my eyes. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, my love."

I looked down at her fingers, tucked delicately under the waistband. I met her hands with my own and guided them down my legs, dragging the fabric with them. I stepped out of them and she stepped in to me. Silk pressed up against my skin and I sucked in my breath. My hands instinctively went to her curves. Against her hips and her ribs, I slid my fingers across that slick fabric. I heard her exhale, and felt her press her lips to my collarbone. Her hands wrapped around my back where so many times my father's cane had struck. I didn't mean to wince. I don't know why I did. She went still for just a heartbeat before I spoke.

"Please don't stop." I pleaded quietly.

I heard her take a deep breath and I silently begged her to continue.

"Lay down." She directed, softly. "On your belly."

I slid past her and crawled on the bed, laying my head on my arms. I heard a bit of a rustle and then the bed shifted a little with her weight. I sensed, more than felt her lean over me. She took every care to only touch my skin with her lips. That sweet mouth found each invisible scar and kissed away the pain. Kissed away the terror. Kissed away the shame. She covered my skin with her love and swept away the monsters as if they were only a minor burden.

When I felt her straddle my back and I realized she was naked, I couldn't help but shudder. My breath hitched and I groaned as she pressed herself against me. I felt her heat radiating into the crux of my very soul. She leaned forward to whisper in my ear as her breasts brushed my back.

"Is this better, my sweet dragon?" Her breath ruffled the small hairs on my neck.

"Perfect." Was all I managed, as my heart threatened to punch a hole through my ribs.

She slid her body once, back down, and I felt all of her. Felt her wetness. Felt the little hard pebbles her nipples had become. I grew uncomfortably hard and slipped my hand underneath me to adjust. She paused and slid back up to my ear.

"Turn over, love." She whispered.

My mother raised just a little off me as I turned underneath her. She settled herself gently on my stomach. She was so hot, her core nearly scalded. She looked down at me and I saw an undefinable compassion. A love that would travel through the ages.

"Is this what you want?" She asked as her hand snaked behind her and gently pressed my hardness into her back. I couldn't help but thrust a little into it and whimper. She smiled, I think, at my inability to answer properly.

She raised her hips, never taking her eyes off me, and guided herself ever so slowly, inch by inch, until I filled her completely. I groaned and sat up, wrapping my arms about her as I pulled her into me. It was exquisite. It was perfection. It was the place I belonged. It was The Fountain Of Youth and the beginning of life. The puzzle was complete and I cried out and kissed her. We devoured each other in a slow grind. A maddening embrace. With lips and teeth and tongue, I explored her. I memorized her. Her neck, her mouth, her breasts. I suckled like a babe once again as I rutted deep inside her.

Her sweet keens and encouragements were my weakness and I lifted and turned her over. She gasped and I grinned as I pushed inside her.

"Draco!" She groaned as she pulled me to her and consumed me. My thrusts grew frantic, my breaths ragged.

"Mother, I…"

I knew I was close. I wasn't trying to be, but inexperience threatened duration. I think she knew though, for she pulled me back into her lips and whispered.

"This is for you my darling dragon."

I felt myself on the edge and jumped off. I whimpered into her neck as I spilled all I had inside her. All my fear, all my sadness. Each piece of my broken heart, she mended and placed back inside my chest, until I was whole once again.

I couldn't help but bow my head into her neck when it was over. She just held me as my breaths became slow and steady.

As that summer wore on, our relationship evolved. We spent days...and nights, together. We laughed; we made love; we healed each other. My father's incarceration seemed a fitting punishment, until I was forced to take The Dark Mark. My mother took it upon herself to guarantee my safety. I didn't know it then, but after I found out all that she had done for me in the wake of the Wizarding War, I loved her all the more.

My father came back from Azkaban a broken man and ended up being more harm to himself than to anyone around him. We just let him kill himself slowly. After that fateful night, he was never a threat to me again. He ended up dying of a sick soul and a broken spirit only a few years later

I sit here now, in my father's chair and I can only think of her. I've spent the better part of the night wondering how I can ever live without her, and I realize I cannot. Have you ever wanted someone so achingly badly, you thought that if you closed your eyes and wished hard enough, you could bend reality to your will and see them standing before you? I have acquired all one could possibly want out of life and I still ended up losing the greatest treasure of all. If I cannot make her stand before me, I shall go and stand before her. My one and only. My forever. My mother….My love.

Draco Malfoy

* * *

><p>Astoria read his name. Her husband who never belonged to her. The father of her child. She slowly stood and held the letter in near nerveless fingers. Her mind reeled and her thoughts flew back to her own sleeping boy. Her own dirty little secret. She decided she must get this cleaned up. Must make this look more...natural. She had a name to protect, after all. She cleaned up the blood and patched his torn wrists post mortem. Astoria folded the letter and made to throw it in the fire, when her eyes caught the other parchment addressed to Draco. She picked up the second parchment and began to read.<p>

* * *

><p>My dearest dragon,<p>

This missive you are reading because some official or other has told you that I have died. Healers recognise only technicalities. You and I, however, we know the grey spaces in between. We have lain there together, naked and powerless, learning our immortalities. So I needn't tell you I am not dead.

I am waiting.

It is a state of being I know most intimately; more intimately, even, than the peculiar way I came to know you. I waited all of my life. My birth began my waiting. I waited for you. You - my greatest gift and my most perfect creation. You - the only good that could have emerged my sickened soul. You were my salvation, Draco.

Son. Lover. How sweetly, how sinfully you made this transition. From caterpillar in my womb, to butterfly in my womb. You seeded where you were seed and flew up. Grew up. And amidst all the darkness you were my star. I prayed on you, to you. You were my little knight paradoxically, dragon. You slew the monsters that plagued me.

You grew into a god I could not touch. Could no more control than the tide or the orbit of the earth. Always my fingers just reached, just brushed. And when you turned, I withdrew. I think for a time I was afraid of you. Afraid of what you represented: a want that made me wanton. The knowledge that you could bend me like a dark whore if only you desired…

And to see you broken? Abused by that encroacher who was ever little more to me than a donor? That moment was my downfall. The moment I surrendered all. Knew that the life we shared would change forever.

One of my ancestors once wrote that no good deed goes unpunished. She was right, the old witch. I healed you the only way I knew how, darling - with myself. My mothering, my magic, my love. My lust, perhaps, was the one wrong.

How were we to know? Damned Black family genes. Deep in the blood. Some sicknesses are incontrovertible. But the illness we shared… Never think I've regretted. Not a moment, my love.

I am waiting, Draco. For the next moments we can share. Son. Lover. My darling dragon.

I will wait forever for you.

Yours Eternally,

Narcissa

* * *

><p>Astoria finished reading. Her face was impassive as she folded the second letter and threw them both in the fire. She watched as the paper and ink went up into flames. Scorpius could never know. She wouldn't risk the damage it would surely do. Her young lover was as sensitive sometimes as his father. She would make funeral arrangements, and life would go on. A slight pang of guilt crossed her features momentarily, but it ended almost as soon as it began. Draco would have done the same thing to protect the family name, she thought to herself.<p>

The funeral was a grand affair in typical Malfoy fashion. Scorpius sat next to his mother as she held his hand through the proceedings. After it was over and the guests had gone, she stood alone as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Earth filled the hole and the funeral wizards took their leave. The Malfoy family cemetery was once again quiet. She looked at Narcissa's fresh grave next to Draco's, and contemplated everything she'd learned. All the secrets, all the lies. Her thoughts were cut short though, by a pair of hands snaking around her waist.

"Hello, darling." She said, softly.

"Mother." Scorpius answered. "What are you still doing out here?"

"Just thinking." She answered simply.

"About what?"

She turned around in his arms and smiled. "You, I suppose."

He grinned and leaned in to kiss the back of her neck.

"I'm hard to forget."

Astoria smiled. "I could never forget a boy as beautiful as you."

Scorpius glanced over and regarded his father and grandmother's graves.

"When I die, I want to be buried next to you." He said innocently.

Astoria looked at her son and smiled bittersweetly.

"I would have it no other way, my love." She said as she took his hand and led him back into the manor.

A/N

Happy Valentine's Day, Narco fans. This one was tough to write. Thank you to The Milf for Narcissa's letter. It completed this piece, perfectly. If you'd like to read another Valentine's Day treat, check out 'My Bloody Valentine' by Mrs. Milfoy. Read and REVIEW.


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